“No meat whatever. Sure, man alive, ’tis a fast day!”
“My dear, there is no occasion for an explanation,” remonstrated her vis-à-vis, when the waiter had retired.
“Sure, won’t he think it uncivil, just to say no or yes?”
“Not if you add ‘please.’ The salad is nice and fresh, but you should not eat it with your fingers.”
“It tastes more natural like!”
“Possibly; but you don’t wish to be remarkable, do you?”
“No, indeed. Am I? Tell me, please, is there anything on me? or queer about me? Is anything sticking in me hair?”
“Why, certainly not. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve noticed quite a lot of people staring over at me, as if they knew I was no great shakes, and had no call to be here; and there’s a man near the pillar that has a pair of eyes like two big black slugs. I declare they make me curl all over!”
Miss Usher was agreeably conscious of the fact that her charge had made considerable sensation in their neighbourhood. No one could look more elegant and distinguished, than the pretty girl in the corner. There had been whispers, glances, and a turning of heads. These admirers had not heard the beauty’s soft common brogue, nor witnessed her difficulties with forks and wine-glasses. “But, considering all things, she was wonderful,” said the chaperon to herself, as she rose from the table, and ordered coffee in the hall. The more her ladyship rubbed off the raw edge of ignorance, and the sooner she encountered and vanquished startling first impressions, the better for her, and her kinsfolk.